


Magical Healing Dicks

by Qzil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Magical Healing Cock, Necrophilia, Resurrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 13:50:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3571997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qzil/pseuds/Qzil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel finds an unconventional way to resurrect Meg. Inspired by the ‘fucking a corpse back to life’ card from Cards Against Humanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magical Healing Dicks

Returning from the small convince store on the corner, Castiel unpacked the multitude of air fresheners and Fabreeze he’d purchased. Refusing to look at the room’s only bed, he carefully placed the pine-scented cubes around the room to mask the smell, thankful that the motel he’d chosen was in the middle of nowhere. 

Finally having no choice, he picked up the spray bottle of Fabreeze, walked over to the bed, and began spraying it over Meg’s corpse. 

He’d felt her die just as he’d gotten on the bus and, in a fit of stupidity, had dangerously flown back to the alley and retrieved her body. It had been stupid of him to fly in the first place, he knew, and even worse to fly again carrying the body of a demon. 

But he couldn’t leave her there, not if there was some way to bring her back.   
It had always been a joke among the angels ever since he was young. It was usually spouted by Gabriel and led to laughter, but Castiel could see the hint of seriousness in his brother’s eyes. 

And now it was time to test it. 

Coughing slightly, Castiel set the Fabreeze down on the table next to the bed. Small drops of moisture clung to the off-white sheet he’d spread over Meg’s body to preserve her modesty. Her clothes, freshly laundered and free of blood, rested on top of the television, for lack of anywhere else to put them. He knew she’d want them if he brought her back. 

And if he didn’t bring her back, if he wasn’t able to drag her darkness back from wherever demons went when they died, then the girl she was riding would flow back into her body, and no doubt want her clothing back as well. 

He’d cleaned the blood from her body the day before, leaving her wounds gaping cleanly, like a drawing in a medical textbook, before clumsily stitching the larger ones back together. She wouldn’t mind scars, he knew. She could always find another body.

But this body, the last body she had inhabited, would hopefully be the one to call her back. 

And while he cleaned her, Castiel debated silently on whether or not he should bring her back—or even could. While Gabriel had often joked that it was the most effective method, in human eyes it was very wrong and very, very illegal.  
Castiel sat down next to her body and put his head in his hands. Her body was already starting to smell, and if he waited much longer, it would begin to rot beyond even his saving, or he would be unable to mask the smell and be forced to abandon her before he was caught. 

It was now or never. 

Standing, he awkwardly reached into his bag for the small bottle of lube he’d purchased and glanced back over at the bed. He removed his long coat and nothing else, nervously fingering the bottle for a moment before walking slowly to the bed and drawing the sheet up around Meg’s waist, leaving her top half covered. It was more to make himself feel better about what he was about to do than about preserving her modesty, made it seem more clinical and less dirty.   
He shivered when he moved her legs on the bed to leave her open for him. Her skin felt almost like damp clay, clammy and slippery under his touch. She was dry between the legs, and Castiel tried to focus on the wallpaper above the headboard as he squeezed the lube out of the bottle and rubbed her there to make the way easier for him, and her less uncomfortable when she woke up. 

If she woke up. 

Finishing, he shut the bottle and gently rested it on the bedside table before taking a deep breath, determined to get it over with. Still trying not to think, he undid his pants, gently slid them down past his thighs, and took himself in his hand, stroking himself until he was hard. 

He really hoped that Gabriel hadn’t been joking. 

He pushed into her cold body, putting his weight on his hands to keep himself well above her. The smell of death still invaded his nostrils, and for a moment he stilled, fighting back vomit and the urge to flee the room before he moved again. Castiel thrust into her as gently as possible, but even his small motions were enough to send her limp body jerking on the bed. Meg’s head rolled to the side, her blonde hair spreading over her wounded face to hide it while Castiel tried not to look at her. 

It wasn’t working. 

Desperate, he thrust into her harder. Her head lolled from side to side and her whole body rocked on the bed with his movements, the sheet bunching up higher around her waist to expose the bottom of her stomach. 

It still wasn’t working. Horrified at what he was doing and his failure, Castiel was about to give up when Meg’s body stiffened under him. Warmth began to flow back into her limbs and color appeared on her cheeks as her blood moved once again in her body, leaking from the smaller cuts on her face and shoulders. Still inside of her, Castiel placed his hand over her heart, smiling when he felt it beating. 

Meg’s eyes flew open and locked with his. 

Scrambling backward, Castiel pulled out of her and struggled to yank his pants up, his cock still hard between his legs. Meg moved more slowly, inching toward the headboard and drawing her knees up to her chest, tangling the sheet around her and blocking her body from his view. Her eyes darted around the room, wide and terrified, before settling on him, and Castiel hoped it was his Meg and not the girl she had possessed. 

But the voice that came from her throat was all hers. 

“What the _fuck,_ Clarence!”

He smiled, but stayed at the end of the bed. “I brought you back.”

“By _fucking_ me?”

He nodded. “Yes. It was something of a joke to us, when I was younger, but I didn’t know another way.”

Meg raised an eyebrow at him and slowly uncurled herself, holding the sheet to her chest. “Since when do angels have magical healing dicks?”

“Since always,” he answered lightly. Meg shook her head and stood, walking shakily toward the television when she saw her clothes thrown over the top of it. She let the sheet drop carelessly as she reached to put them on, laughing when Castiel looked away to give her privacy. 

“You just had sex with my dead body,” she pointed out. “I really don’t think now’s the time to get all squeamish.”

Castiel sighed. He was glad that it had worked, and glad to have her back, but he knew he needed to move soon. 

“You should rest,” he told her. “We’ll have to move soon. I’ll explain on the way.”  
Meg shrugged into her shirt and jumped back onto the bed, patting the space next to her. Castiel stared for a moment before relenting and settling down onto the mattress. Meg stared up at the ceiling, a slight frown on her face. 

“Well, this has been a weird day,” she said, echoing his thoughts. 

Castiel simply nodded.


End file.
